


Amaranthe's Corner Cafe

by Sammybunny711



Category: The Emperor's Edge Series - Lindsay Buroker
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fade to Black, college student!sespian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-07 08:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19205743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammybunny711/pseuds/Sammybunny711
Summary: Sespian just wants to study architecture and art as a new university student, but his father Raumesys has other plans. When he is kicked out onto the streets with no place to go and no means to support himself, who should come to his aid but the sinister hitman Sicarius.





	1. Chapter 1

The slap nearly sent him flying into the wall. Sespian Savarsin tasted blood on his tongue as he glanced to the floor, away from his father. 

“You will do as I say or you will be disowned. Understood?” Raumesys’ gravelly voice seethed with anger-- a rage Sespian refused to cower beneath. 

“I'm not changing my major. Disown me if you must,” he said, ignoring the blood filling his mouth and lifting a chin in defiance. 

Raumesys narrowed his eyes, raised his hand again, prepared to strike--

A black blur moved out of the corner of Sespian's eye and within a blink, a man stood behind his father, holding the raised hand in a clenched fist. 

Sespian blanched, taking in the unruly blonde hair crowning an angular, grim face. Dark eyes were staring not at Raumesys, but at Sespian. 

_ Sicarius.  _

His father's hit man had been off on a job for almost two weeks and Sespian hadn't noticed his return. He was begrudgingly grateful to him for stopping his father's next strike, but otherwise, Sespian hated the man. He had nothing but bad memories where he was concerned. 

“Sicarius!” Raumesys sneered, trying to jerk his arm free. “What are you--”

“I must speak with you,” the cool, monotone voice said. 

“I'm busy with my son,” Raumesys spat. “Wait for me outside.”

Sicarius’ hard stare remained and Sespian almost withered beneath it, but if he could stand up to his father, he could stand up to Sicarius. He straightened his posture and steeled himself. The hit man’s mouth tightened, but he released Raumesys’ forearm and strode out the door. 

“Creepy bastard,” Raumesys muttered under his breath. He straightened his tailored suit jacket and checked his sleeve for imperfections where Sicarius had grabbed it. After deeming himself fit to be seen again, he glowered at Sespian. “Architecture and art won’t help you in this business, Sespian. Change them. Today.”

Sesian wanted to roll his eyes but he kept them firmly on his father’s face. “I have no interest in your  _ business _ , Father. I won’t be filling your shoes when you’re gone.”

Raumesys’ eyes narrowed. “Oh, you won’t?” 

“No. I won’t,” Sespian repeated. “I’m going to be an architect. That’s final.”

Dark humor edged into Raumesys’ lips. “Fine, Sespian. If that’s the way you want it, you’re cut off for the next six months. I won’t give you a single dime for school or anything else. If you think you can make it on your own without me I’m willing to give you your chance.”

Sespian had anticipated being cut off completely, so he wasn’t overly shocked by his father’s proposition. “Fine.”

Raumesys crossed his arms. “That includes living under my roof. I expect you gone by morning.”

Sadly, he’d anticipated that, too. Sespian nodded and turned to go. 

“And one more thing,  _ son _ ,” Raumesys hissed from behind him. 

Sespian craned his neck back. “If you come crawling back to me at the end of this six month period, I expect you to change your major, get serious about the family business, and be a model heir, is that understood?”

A slight twitch of a smirk at the corner of his lips, Sespian said, “I won’t be back.”

He turned on his heel and strode out the door. 

Outside his father’s office, Sicarius stood ramrod straight, hands behind his back. Sespian wondered if he had listened to the entire conversation. Knowing him, he probably eavesdropped on all  _ sorts  _ of conversations that happened on the estate. Sespian shivered at the idea. He dismissed the hit man from his thoughts, his presence conjuring up unpleasant images and memories, and made it all of two steps before--

“Sir,” Sicarius said. 

Sespian winced. All his father’s lackeys had been instructed to call him “sir”, but it always sounded so strange to his ears. He turned, “Um, yes?” Sicarius had  _ never  _ spoken to him before. 

Sicarius had turned to face him, a strange...aberration of expression in his otherwise stony face. Something about the eyes looked different than Sespian was used to. He said nothing for a long time. 

“I need to start packing,” Sespian said and continued down the corridor. 

“Do you have a place to stay?” Sicarius asked.

The question surprised Sespian. What did Sicarius care if he had a place to stay? Unless...would his father have Sespian killed for his insubordination? The thought chilled him. Raumesys was no benevolent father looking out for his son. Sespian had no illusions that his father loved him even. It wouldn’t be beyond the scope of imagination that he’d have Sicarius remove a threat to the family if Sespian ever displeased Raumesys. The less Sicarius knew about Sespian’s future whereabouts, the better. 

“That’s not your concern,” Sespian finally replied. 

He hurried down the hallway and was glad when no more inquiries came his way. If Sicarius was interested in his plans, that was  _ not  _ a good sign. Had Raumesys been planning this temporary disownment for a while now? Had he already tasked Sicarius with another mission? One that involved Sespian as the target? Sweat licked his palms and he fisted them at his sides. In truth, he  _ didn’t  _ have a place to stay. But now he knew he’d have to be careful that no one found out about his choice of residence. What someone else knew, Sicarius could find out. 

Sespian made it to his room and unlocked the door. Persistent mewing greeted him. “Hey, Trog,” he sighed. “Looks like we’ve been evicted.” Trog twined around his legs, meowing loudly. Sespian glanced at his food bowl to find it empty. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll get you some food, give me a second.”

He went to the corner where he kept Trog’s cat food and put just enough for a few mouthfuls into the bowl. Then he looked up at his room and groaned. His entire life was in here. How was he supposed to just pack it all up and be gone by morning? What would his father do with his belongings if he left anything behind? He needed an ally at the estate, but thanks to being an outcast among his father’s blood thirsty, morally depraved mobsters, Sespian didn’t have a lot of friends who’d help him out. There was no one here he could trust. 

“If my mom was still alive, she’d probably help me, but…” But she wasn’t. No use thinking like that. 

Sespian rolled up his sleeves and set to work on packing two suitcases with his most cherished possessions and a modest amount of clothes. His sketchbooks would weigh the most, but he refused to leave them behind…

Trog munched on his food happily, sending a cracking, crunching sound into the quiet air while Sespian packed up what he could. When he was done, he’d ended up with a backpack and three suitcases. Not exactly an easy load to walk down the sidewalk with in the middle of a busy city like Armelion. He’d likely be robbed in an instant. Sespian ran a hand up the back of his head, ruffling his hair. 

“We need a car, Trog…”

Sespian had never taken a taxi before--had always had the use of a family car--but he supposed that was his best option now. The next problem...where was he going to go? He didn’t really know anyone from university that well. He was only a freshman after all and at the very beginning of his first semester. He had a little money saved from the years of getting an allowance as a child, but it wasn’t enough to buy his own place, certainly. He’d have to rent. But could he afford an apartment for himself? Not likely. 

Sespian refused to freak out. His situation was solvable. He just needed to approach it all step by step in a logical manner. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the time. Just after six in the evening. He had to be gone by morning so he had about twelve hours to figure this out. He went to his desk and powered up his laptop. 

For two solid hours, he scoured his university’s residence life social media sites and forums looking for advertisements from people looking for roommates. Unfortunately, as it was already a few weeks into fall semester, most people had already claimed housing situations for themselves and most weren’t looking for a third or fourth person to share an apartment with. Sespian rubbed his face with his hands and exhaled.  _ Don’t panic, _ he chastised himself.  _ Panicking won’t solve anything. _

A soft knock at his door startled him out of his self pity and he binked. His father never knocked and all of his father’s staff would be helping with dinner or on their own jobs at the moment. Sespian’s eyebrows furrowed as he went carefully to the door. He unlocked it and nudged it slowly open. 

“Who is--”

Sicarius stood outside his doorway. 

Sespian leapt back, door flinging wide, and felt his heart rate skyrocket. He glanced around for something he could use as a weapon. So his father  _ had  _ decided it was more convenient to get rid of Sespian after all. Unfortunately, there was nothing within reach except an old book. He felt his skin crawl with cold when he realized he didn’t know the first thing about defending himself. He’d always refused the martial arts and weapons lessons his father had tried to force on him growing up. His mother had supported Sespian in his lack of interest, so Raumesys eventually gave up. Now, as he stared at the deadly assassin standing outside the threshold of his room, he was rethinking his childhood rebellion. 

“Sicarius--listen, I’m leaving--I won’t be any trouble to my father. Just let me g--”

“I have a place you can stay,” Sicarius said. 

Sespian’s brain didn’t quite catch up to the statement for nearly a full minute. “Er...what?”

Sicarius strode into the room without invitation and shut the door, locking it behind him. He turned back to Sespian. Trog ambled over, sniffing. Sicarius’ eyes zeroed in on the cat, but he made no move to interact with it. Trog finished his inspection and walked away. The silence was tense and Sespian felt like a thousand eyes roamed over his skin. 

“Why would you help me?” he finally asked. “You’re not just...trying to set up some elaborate plot to take me out, are you?”

Sicarius’ gaze went flinty. 

“Not that you’d tell me if you  _ were _ ,” Sespian conceded.

A muscle in Sicarius’ jaw twitched. 

Sespian was annoying him, he promptly shut up. It was utterly beyond Sespian why Sicarius would offer his help, but given the resources the hit man had to have at his disposal, should he take it?

“It is an adequate residence that is close to your university,” Sicarius said. 

“How did you find out about this place so quickly?” Sespian asked, suspicious about this entire situation. 

Sicarius glanced to the bags Sespian had packed and didn’t answer right away. Eventually he said, “I will ensure your things arrive safely.”

“What?” Sespian scowled. “You didn’t even answer my question.”

Sicarius pulled out a slim black smartphone from a front pants pocket and started moving his thumb swiftly over the screen, ignoring Sespian. 

“Hey! Sicar--”

Sespian’s own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the notification. 

_ UNKNOWN NUMBER:  _ 49 E 4th Street, Apt A

“How do you know my number?” Sespian whispered.

Sicarius returned his phone to his pocket. “You should go now. Without being burdened by your bags you’ll travel easily on foot.”

Sespian stared at him. Sicarius didn’t look him in the eye and there was a tense mien to his body that seemed at odds with how he normally presented himself. “Why are you helping me?”

Silence.

When it became clear that Sicarius wasn’t going to answer, Sespian grabbed his backpack off the pile of luggage and slipped his arms through the straps. Next, he got Trog’s carrying case and put a bit of food in it. Trog willingly waltzed into the black breathable bag and Sespian zipped it up. He stood there. Just...stood there. What could he say to Sicarius?

“Thank you,” he finally settled on. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I would be remiss if I didn’t thank you for your help.”

Sicarius gave him an imperceptible nod and said, “Understood.”

Sespian readjusted his backpack and Trog’s carrying case and strode out the door without saying anything else. This entire conversation had him sweating bullets and he didn’t want to be in Sicarius’ debt, but what choice did he have? Ancestors knew what the hit man would want in return. With that grim thought rattling around in his head, Sespian left the estate on foot and headed downtown. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Problem, boss?”

Amaranthe Lokdon looked up from her desk and sighed at the bulky, overly handsome man standing in her office doorway. “Maldynado…” Had her voice gone whiny? It definitely had. 

“Yeeees?” he drawled, coming in to sit at one of the chairs in front of her. 

“Orvgar quit today,” she said, the stress of that fact settling into her bones. 

Maldynado winced. “Did he give a reason?”

Amaranthe put her head down on the cool surface of the desk. “He claims he got a better offer at Curi’s Bakery.”

Maldyando patted her on the head. “Don't worry, boss. I'm sure Akstyr can cook well enough until we find someone else.”

She groaned. “You  _ know  _ that's not true.”

He leaned back in the chair and raised his hands. “Well you don't expect  _ me  _ to do it, right? Who else would sell half as many pastries and coffees as I can on a given day?”

Amaranthe managed a half smile. Maldynado Montichelu  _ did  _ manage to bring in decent ranmyas--particularly from their female clientele. “You don't have to cook. I'll just have to start advertising for a new chef slash baker today.”

Maldynado raised his eyebrows. “ _ Just  _ a chef slash baker? You also need a new server since that other girl up and quit two weeks ago. You've been running yourself ragged without extra help.”

Amaranthe sighed again. “You're right. Why is it that people don't want to stay here? Aren't we fun?”

“I'm fun, you're…”Maldynado fluttered his fingers through the air. “Fastidious.”

Amaranthe narrowed her eyes in mock anger, but sat up straighter and lifted her laptop screen. “One chef slash baker, one server coming right up.” Maldynado didn't make to leave and she arched a brow. “Er…don't you have work to do?”

He snickered. “It's nine, boss. Lose track of time again?”

She glanced at her watch. “Is it that time? Head on home. Tell Akstyr, too.”

He leapt from the chair. “See you tomorrow.”

As he headed for the door, she noticed he was dressed rather fine for a casual evening and she shook her head, smiling. “Got a date tonight?”

He flicked two fingers in salute. “I have  _ two _ .”

“Do they know about each other?”

He spun around and propped his hands on his hips. “Of course! They're both accompanying me to an evening at the theatre.”

Amaranthe couldn't imagine managing two dates at once. She snorted. “Just…”

“Just what, mother?” His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I expect you on time tomorrow. Make sure to get some sleep.”

Maldynado gave her a flourishing bow and said, “As you command, my lady.”

He left and while she typed up a job listing for each of her needs, she heard light switches turn off and the telltale sounds of doors shutting and locking. At least Maldynado was reliable despite his cavalier attitude. He was right. She  _ did  _ need help. A yawn escaped her. His night was just getting started, but she was exhausted. Thankfully she lived in the flat above the cafe and had nowhere she had to travel. A nice cup of tea and her sofa were only a staircase away. 

Amaranthe finished up with the job postings and closed down her laptop. Checking her phone revealed the usual bevy of notifications and she groaned. Her thumb snagged on an email from Deret Mancrest--the editor of the local Gazette newspaper. He'd been after her for an interview for weeks and Maldynado insisted he was a “handsome man well worth a tumble in the sheets”. Her face flushed at the memory of his words. She didn't have the courage to admit to Maldynado that she'd never tumbled in the sheets with  _ anyone.  _

She got up and turned off the lamp on her desk. Darkness wrapped around her. She closed her office door and locked it, then took a stroll around the cafe and kitchen to ensure the boys had locked everything down properly. Satisfied, she went to the locked door in the back that led up to her flat. Another yawn escaped her and she blinked a few stray droplets of water from her eyes. She’d be lucky to get a cup of tea down her throat before she fell asleep standing up. 

Upstairs, she kicked off her shoes and took her hair down from its customary bun. After putting the kettle on to heat, she went to her bedroom and changed into warm pajamas. The late summer evenings had grown chill and her bare feet protested the cold wooden floors as she sorted her day’s laundry. The kettle whistled in the kitchen and she tiptoed back to take it off the stove. She poured the steaming water over a sachet of chamomile in the first ceramic mug she’d bought for the cafe. The glaze still looked crisp and tidy where it read  _ Amaranthe’s Corner Cafe.  _ She sat down on her sofa with the tea and her phone and proceeded to read through Mancrest’s email. 

_ Hello, Ms. Lockdon, _

_ I hope this third email finds you well. I am writing in regard to the interview I am interested in running in the Gazette about your Corner Cafe. It is rare to find a locally operated business in the age of chain-owned eating houses and bakeries. I would like to find out more about your approach to community relations and marketing. Please respond at your earliest convenience with times I might stop by to chat.  _

_ Thank you for your time, _

_ Deret Mancrest _

_ P.S. - Maldynado has intimated to me that you may be interested in a casual chat after we conclude our business. I know a little Kendorian restaurant near your Cafe that might be interesting to try. Please let me know if you are at all amenable to that idea.  _

_ P.P.S. - If I’m wearying you with my emails, please say so and I will cease to send them.  _

Amaranthe chuckled at the post scripts, but didn’t answer Deret’s email right away. A date. Maldynado was trying to set her up on a date of all things, but Deret did seem genuinely interested in promoting her cafe, which would be good for drumming up more business. Exhaling heavily, she wrote back,

_ Dear Mr. Mancrest, _

_ Thank you for your emails and for your interest in promoting my business in your paper. I would be happy to chat with you at any time that is convenient for you during my regular business hours.  _

She proceeded to list out the days of the week and hours she was open. Her fingers stilled over the haptic keyboard as she tried to think of how to address his offer of eating together. Given how busy she was, Amaranthe didn’t really have time for blind dates or any other sort of relationships besides the somewhat friendships she shared with her coworkers. “Best to put him out of his misery.”

_ As to your second request, unfortunately, my cafe keeps me very busy and I don’t, at this time, have any extra hands to cover the cafe while I go out for casual chats. Perhaps in the future.  _

_ All my regards, _

_ Amaranthe Lokdon _

There. That didn’t sound too harsh, did it? She hoped not. Romance wasn’t really her area and she had no idea if she was putting him off meanly. Before she could second guess herself too much, she sent the email and pulled up the Gazette mobile app. The top headline drew her attention. 

_ LOCAL MOB BOSS STRIKES AGAIN _

She narrowed her eyes and read further. 

_ Three members of President Starcrest’s cabinet have been murdered in recent weeks. These deaths are suspected to be in connection with activities of local mobster Raumesys Savarsin. It is also suspected that Savarsin’s personal hit man was directly responsible for the murders. The identity and whereabouts of said assassin are unknown.  _

“Dear Ancestors, it’s getting dangerous around here,” Amaranthe grumbled. 

She finished her tea, glad her line of work kept her far away from both gangsters and hit men.


	2. Chapter 2

Sespian gaped at the apartment Sicarius had offered him. It was a studio floor plan with several columns supporting the ceiling. A lone twin mattress rested in the back right corner with an unshaded lamp sitting on the wooden floor next to its head. Thankfully it had sheets and a pillow, even if it appeared to have seen better days. Beside the head of the bed was a window covered by sturdy blinds. A kitchenette and bathroom took up the left wall. And that was literally it. The walls were white and bare. There was no closet. 

Did Sicarius ever stay here? It had a bereft feeling—like it had never been inhabited before. Sespian put his backpack down by the door and walked around the space. The sparseness of the environment hammered home the bleak situation in which he now found himself. He sat on the mattress and was pleased to find it bearable. Thank his Ancestors for that. He set Trog’s carrying case down on the floor and unzipped it. 

The cat peered out, but didn’t leave the familiar safety of his case. “Come on, buddy. This is our new...home.”

Sespian had enough saved up to cover some basic amenities like food and rent but it wouldn't be enough to make tuition consistently for six months or to buy course books. Sicarius hadn't mentioned how much he would charge or the cost of utilities. The thought of the hitman knocking on his door every month made him shiver, but Sespian would pay a reasonable amount to stay here. He glanced around again. At least it was clean. And Sicarius had been right. It was probably something like a fifteen minute walk to campus. For all intents and purposes, it was perfect. 

Well, mostly perfect. “The real question, Trog,” Sespian said as he reached in and pulled the cat out of the carrier and into his lap, “does this place have internet?”

Trog mewed in response. 

Sespian retrieved his backpack and took out his laptop. He frowned when he saw something like twenty secured wifi networks. Which one belonged to this apartment? What would the password be? He groaned when he realized he'd have to ask Sicarius. The man had said he'd take care of sending Sespian's belongings. Would he accompany them when they showed up? 

Every time Sespian saw the man, images of severed heads filtered through his mind. It was on Raumesys’ order that Sicarius brought proof of completed hit jobs. Sespian had been five years old the first time he saw Sicarius enter Raumesys’ office with a bloody oil cloth sack. Ever since, he'd tried to avoid the assassin if at all possible. Someone who killed others for money was despicable. 

A knock echoed through the spartan room and Sespian squeezed Trog in anxiety. The cat clawed at his arm. Sicarius? Already? It had only been an hour and a half or so since he left the estate. Sespian set Trog down, strode to the door, and peered through the peephole. Hard eyes and a tight-lipped face waited beyond. 

Sespian sighed and opened the door. “Sicarius?” His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the boxes and bags filling up the hallway in front of his door. “How did you--”

“Irrelevant.”

Sespian realized his mouth was hanging open and he closed it. Tightly. 

“I have brought your things,” Sicarius added, somewhat redundant given the fact that Sespian could see something like twenty boxes and ten bags worth of stuff from his old room, including the luggage he's packed before he left the estate. 

Sespian knelt down to pick up a box. “Did you carry all this up yourself? I could have helped if you'd texted me. Though I still don't know how or why you have my number…”

Sicarius said nothing, but knelt and lifted two of the boxes into his arms. He followed Sespian into the room and set the boxes down in the right corner on the same wall as the door. For every one or two boxes Sespian brought in, Sicarius always brought in double the amount. It took all of five minutes to clear the hallway. When they were finished and the door was shut, Sicarius stood, mute as always, almost as if he was waiting for something. 

Sespian swallowed the lump down in his throat. Rent. Of course. He popped his knuckles and said, “Um…I meant to ask before I left, but how much will I owe you for rent and utilities each month? I'm going to start looking for a job tonight once you leave.”

Sicarius blinked. He didn't answer for several seconds. Then, “It has been dealt with.”

It was Sespian's turn for surprise. “What? I can't live here for free. It wouldn't be right. I'm perfectly capable of paying my own way, despite what my father might think. Is this his doing?”

Something passed over Sicarius’ face and was gone in an instant--before Sespian could be sure he even saw something. 

“You should focus on your studies,” ended up being his response. 

Sespian rolled his eyes. There was no getting anywhere with him. He started unpacking Trog’s food and the cat immediately came over to wind around Sespian's legs. “Just a minute, Trog.”

As he set about filling a bowl of water for the cat, he asked, “Do you have the wifi password?”

Sicarius stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “There is no wifi here.”

Sespian frowned. He could always go to a cafe or coffee shop tomorrow and use their wifi for job hunting. He could make it work. He'd passed a corner cafe on his way to the apartment. Ama--something. He'd go there in the morning to start his search. 

“Sir,” Sicarius said, his voice almost quiet. 

Sespian glanced up as he set Trog’s water on the floor by the kitchen cabinets. “You don't have to call me that, you know.”

Sicarius’ mouth tightened before he said, “Do you require anything else?”

Sespian stood up and tried to read the man. Why was he so suddenly concerned for his welfare? Or was this all an elaborate show?

“No, Sicarius. You've been…strangely very helpful. Thank you.” Sicarius nodded and turned to the door. He put his hand on the knob and Sespian blurted out, “What about you? You still have a place to stay, right? I'm not taking over your home am I?”

Sicarius froze. “No.”

Without another word, he left the apartment and closed the door behind him. For several moments, Sespian stared at the place he'd occupied. “Why is he helping me, Trog? I don't get it.”

The cat simply mewed his reply before loping over to his water dish. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Amaranthe opened the cafe the next morning, a young man was already waiting outside on the sidewalk. She smiled brightly and pulled the door open for him. 

“Good morning! Welcome to Amaranthe’s Corner Cafe,” she chimed with the bells over the door. 

A slight smile tugged at the young man’s lips and when he looked into her face, a delicate flush graced his cheeks. “Good morning,” he returned. 

Once he had passed inside, she shut the door to ward off the early autumn chill and headed for the counter where a sleepy Maldynado stood. “Wake up,” she mouthed to him. 

“Late night, boss,” he sighed. “It’s hard work entertaining two ladies.”

She shook her head with a roll of her eyes and added, “Be charming to that boy over there and see what his order is, please.”

“I don’t charm boys,” he said with a sniff. 

“Oh, I think you could if you tried,” Amaranthe said with a smirk. 

Maldynado gave her a long suffering expression before edging out from behind the counter. Amaranthe looked over her shoulder to see the customer had unloaded a heavy backpack and sat at one of the tables by the window. His face had lost the kind hesitance she’d seen when he came in and a grim determination now filled his eyes. She wondered what his story was. He looked young--perhaps he was one of the university students. Shrugging, she turned down the back corridor and headed to the kitchen to check on Akstyr. 

As she drew closer, a collection of metallic bangs and curses littered the air. Amaranthe winced. Poor Akstyr. Her dish boy was decidedly not a chef or a baker, but he had shown up this morning at 4:30 with Maldynado, ready to try his hand, albeit begrudgingly. And with much eye rolling and grumbling. 

“Akstyr?” she called out melodiously. “Need help back here?”

He gave her a savage look when she rounded the corner into the kitchen. Today, his hair wasn’t spiked up in his usual style. Instead, he’d tied it back at the nape of his neck in a stubby ponytail. Brown eyes swiveled back to his work. Flour dusted the bronze skin of his face and arms. 

“I can’t do this, Am’ranthe,” he growled. “I’ve ruined two pans of cookies already.”

“Maldynado can hold down the front for the time being. Let me help,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. 

“You already ‘helped’ this morning and look where that got us.” He propped a floury hand on a hip and swatted the other through the air, sending sprinkles of white all over the floor.

She scoffed. “I did help! We managed not to burn anything, right?”

Akstyr scowled. “Barely.”

In truth, they had mightily struggled to make the day’s pastries this morning. Amaranthe knew all the recipes just because they had come from her mother’s recipe box, but she had never had the gift for culinary excellence. Thankfully their lunch and dinner menu consisted of soups and sandwiches which were harder to mess up. The prepping for those items had been considerably simpler. But she needed a new baker and she knew it. The job postings had yet to yield any fruit, but it had only been something like twelve hours since she posted them. She resolved to put a “help wanted” sign in the window before the lunch rush as well. 

While she moved to help Akstyr with his cookies, she asked, “How’s the magic class going?”

“Mental. Sciences,” he hissed. 

“Well? How are the mental sciences going?” she appeased him. 

He scratched an itch on his cheek below his left eye, leaving a streak of flour. “Fine. I’m having to learn Mangdorian to read more of my textbooks and my online professor is an ass, but otherwise it’s fine.”

“Still saving up to head to the Kyatt islands for your sophomore year?”

“Maybe,” Akstyr said. 

They managed to finish the cookies and finally all the baking for the day was done. They’d squeaked by, but a few more days of this and Aktsyr might quit. She couldn’t let that happen. “Thank you, Akstyr. I mean it. You really stepped up to help and I appreciate it.”

“Enh. Whatever,” he grumbled and went over to his dish station just as Maldynado came into the kitchen. 

Amaranthe tensed, knowing if he was back here, there was no one up front. “Everything alright?”

Maldynado leaned against the wall at the threshold of the kitchen. “That kid has been so absorbed in his laptop I can’t get him to look at me.”

“Did he order anything?” Amaranthe asked, fearing the boy was just another free-wifi-hogger. 

“A coffee. A black coffee. No frills,” Maldynado sighed. “Which I promptly gave him.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, patting him on the arm. 

“Thanks, boss. It’s exhausting trying to charm a boy. Did you know my dashingly handsome looks don’t work on them?”

Amaranthe snorted. “That’s statistically untrue. I’m sure there are plenty of young men your looks would work on just fine.”

Maldynado laughed. “Well he’s apparently not of that crowd.”

Back up front, Amaranthe surreptitiously roamed around with the intention of appearing to be cleaning--which then turned into actual cleaning--and all the while circled closer to the young man’s table. The boy was so absorbed in whatever he was working on that he didn’t notice Amaranthe spying over his shoulder. The light on the laptop screen was turned down, but with some squinting she could just make out--

Job websites. The kid was looking for a job!

Amaranthe’s heart soared. Could it really be this easy? Could a job candidate really have landed in her lap? She thanked her Ancestors and strode quickly to her office where she kept her “help wanted” sign. Maybe if she casually held it in front of the young man long enough for him to notice, he’d bring up his need for gainful employment? Or perhaps she could be overheard moaning and groaning about the need for more help. 

She waltzed back into the dining area and made a point to say to Maldynado, loudly, “Did you hang up the ‘help wanted’ sign this morning?”

His eyes widened. “Er...no. But...did you ask me to?”

“I have it here,” she said, handing it to him. Under her breath she added, “Put it in the window right by that kid’s seat. He’s job hunting on his computer.”

Maldynado raised an eyebrow. “You little spy.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amaranthe inspected her nails and flicked flour off her apron. 

Maldynado plucked the sign out of her hand and trotted over to the window right by the young man’s table. He wedged the sign into the small space between the window and frame and admired his handiwork. The boy didn’t even look up. Maldynado glanced over his shoulder as if to ask, What now? Amaranthe frowned. This would take a direct approach. She waved Maldynado back and mouthed, “I’ve got this.”

She picked up the coffee caraffe and headed the boy’s way with it. When she drew even with his table, she lifted it and asked, “Need a refill?”

He hadn’t touched a drop of his coffee. He snapped out of his focus and glanced up at her. That flush from earlier crept back into his angular cheeks. “Um, no. Thank you, though.”

Amaranthe sighed and stared out the window wistfully. “I apologize if things have been a bit chaotic here this morning.”

“Chaotic?” His eyebrows raised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re a bit short handed,” she admitted, “I put up two job postings last night in fact. One for a chef slash baker and one for a server.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “You’re looking for a server?”

“Yes,” Amaranthe beamed her most winning smile at him. “Are you looking for work?”

He stood up so quickly he knocked over his chair. “Yes!” He noticed the chair and flushed all the way to his ears. “Er...yes,” he said as he righted the chair and looked at her again with an intensity that surprised her. 

He stood about six feet, which was half a head taller than her and he was handsome in a way. He had high cheekbones, dark broody eyes, and light brown hair that shone in the light coming from the windows. 

“Would you like an interview?” she asked, widening her smile. 

“I don’t have my resume with me,” he admitted. 

Amaranthe waved a hand. “No need. I’ll just ask extra invasive questions to get to know you better,” she laughed. 

He nodded vigorously. “An interview would be great, ma’am.”

She stuck out a hand. “Call me Amaranthe. I own the cafe.”

He took her hand and shook it with a firm grip. “Thank you, Amaranthe. For the opportunity to interview, I mean.”

“Let’s go back to my office. You can bring your things or Maldynado over there can keep an eye on them for you.”

The young man eyed Maldynado with a dubious wariness and began packing up his laptop. He lifted the backpack and carried it with him as he followed Amaranthe back into her office. She sat and gestured for him to do so as well. Once they were both comfortable, Amaranthe gave him another smile.

“So,” she began. “Tell me about yourself.”

He didn’t outright fidget, but Amaranthe could tell he was nervous from the ramrod straight posture and the way he clenched his jaw. He said, “I’m a freshman at Armelion University studying architecture and art history. I recently moved out of my dad’s..er...house..and am looking for work to help with my tuition and living expenses. I’ve never worked in the restaurant industry, but feel it would be an exceptional experience for learning how to manage time well and to gain customer service knowledge.”

Amaranthe nodded. It didn’t escape her that he hadn’t given her his name. She probed, “What do I call you?”

A glimmer of something passed over his face before he got it under control. “Sespian,” he said. 

No last name. Interesting. “Just Sepsian?” She propped her chin on her palms. 

He blanched, exhaled, and closed his eyes. “It’s Savarsin. Sespian Savarsin.”

Amaranthe had heard the name before. As it dawned on her, she gasped. She’d read the name just last night in that news article! “You wouldn’t happen to be related to the gangster Raumesys Savarsin would you?”

Sespian’s rigid posture dialed up a notch and Amaranthe was afraid he might crack into little pieces if she touched him. A visible swallow coursed down his throat. He stared at her, bronze skin going utterly pale. “N-no. No, of course not. Just an unfortunate sharing of a last name. There are more Savarsins around than you would think.”

Amaranthe didn’t believe that for a second, but she didn’t want to pry overmuch. Still…a server with mob connections could mean trouble for her cafe. She chewed at a nail on her left hand for a few moments, thinking it over. When she glanced up, Sespian had a look of total defeat on his face. He really wanted this job. And she really needed the help. 

“Look,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up. “I don’t care who your family is. What I care about is whether or not you’re willing to work hard and be a part of the team. Can you do that, Sespian?” 

Hope returned to his eyes. “Yes, Ms. Amaranthe. I will work very hard for you.” 

“Then you’ve got yourself a job,” she said, sticking out a hand. “And no need for the ‘Ms.’”

He shook it vigorously and beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Here’s my card.” Amaranthe peeled one off the neat stack she kept on her desk. “Email me a copy of your class schedule and I’ll get you a work schedule as soon as I can. Would you like to work part or full-time?” 

“As close to full as you can, if that’s a possibility,” Sespian said. 

“We can definitely do that.”

Sespian looked like he might cry from joy. He was so expressive. She wouldn’t have pictured that for a kid who had mob connections.  _ Oh, Dear Ancestors…don’t let this come back to bite me in the— _

“ Amaranthe!” Maldynado called from the front. 

She sighed and stuck her head out of her doorway, peering down the hall toward the front of the cafe. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor. A dashing visitor,” Maldynado called back.

Amaranthe groaned. Mancrest. She had told him to stop by during business hours. She turned to Sespian, an apologetic expression on her face. “It seems I have an interview for the paper I need to take care of. Do you mind staying until I’m finished? I’ll introduce you to the others once I’m done speaking with the journalist and I can show you around. I’ll need your contact information, too.”

Sespian put up his hands. “It’s no problem. I’ve got some homework to do anyway. Do you mind if I use the wifi?” 

“Not at all,” she waved a hand. “Once I’m free, I’ll get you on the secure wifi. It’s stronger and faster.”

“Thanks, Amaranthe.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

They left her office and strolled to the front of the cafe where Maldynado stood behind the counter chatting with a stranger that Amaranthe could only assume was Mancrest. 

His long frame was wrapped up in a camel-colored trench coat, accented with a navy scarf, and a brown fedora. Waving curls escaped a tie at the nape of his neck. His face, though, was the true draw. He had warm eyes with delicate crows feet fanning out in away that was more handsome than indicative of his age. The only thing about him that seemed out of place was the presence of a sleek black cane extending from his left hand. He leaned slightly to that side and she wondered if he was recovering from an injury. 

Maldonado spotted her and waved her over. “Amaranthe, meet my good friend Deret Mancrest.”

She smiled politely and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Sespian skirted around them and headed to his table where he promptly sat and started typing away at his laptop.

Mancrest eyed him with momentary interest before turning back to Amaranthe. He tipped his hat with his free hand and then shook hers. “Ms. Lokdon. Thank you for agreeing to answer a few questions.”

“Absolutely. Shall we go to my office? Or would you like a tour of the cafe first?” Her eyes zeroed in on a loose thread on his shoulder and she longed to snip it off.

His hand clenched the top of his cane and he smiled, a weary glint to his eye. “Perhaps another visit for the tour. I’d love to see your office.”

Amaranthe extended a hand and led him down the hallway. Once Mancrest had moved beyond Maldynado, the imp started making kissy faces at them. Amaranthe shot him a severe look and he smiled devilishly. 

In her office, Amaranthe extended a hand to the chairs in front of her desk. “Please have a seat.”

Mancrest smiled and sat, taking extra care for his left leg. 

“Now, how may I help you with this article?” She joined her fingers beneath her chin and cocked her head to the side.

Mancrest pulled out a matte black smart phone and asked, “Do you mind if I record our conversation? I may also make notes if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Amaranthe waved a hand.

He swiped through his home screen, found his recording app and pressed “record”. Next, he pulled out a small notepad and pen and leaned forward, charming but serious. “Ms. Lokdon, I have many things I’d like to discuss with you, but I would be remiss if I didn’t first ask...what is Raumesys Savarsin’s son doing in your cafe?”

Amaranthe paled and bit her lip.  _ So it begins… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience while I finished up ch2. P.S. I adore Deret Mancrest. Thanks so much for the comments and kudos on the previous chapter! <3 I'll try to get ch3 up soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been kicking around this idea for a while now. I hope y'all enjoy!


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